Of Aliens and Marshmallows
by igirisexual
Summary: Mr. Jones thinks Mr. Braginsky is an alien. A communist alien. A commalien. He tells Matthew all about it. Then, there's the whole issue of the marshmallows in the garbage bag. And Gilbert sucks. But Yao's a brilliant shining star. Teacher AU. Odd oneshot.


"D'you think Ivan's an alien?"

"What? What kind of question is that?"

Mr. Williams crossed his legs at the calf, and raised a brow at his brother. They were currently situated in his social worker office, with Mr. Jones eating his lunch there and rejoicing in the heated space of the room. It was a rather chilly winter day, and most students were hiding inside the library or cafeteria to huddle together, keep warm, and ultimately avoid the cold.

"He's an alien."

Alfred was huddled up in the wheely chair across Matthew's desk, eating shitty instant miso soup out of a paper cup. It was one of his favourite pastimes to make up theories about that odd science teacher, Mr. Braginsky. Although he was pretty sure he was right on this one.

"Uh huh."

"He is!" Alfred huffed, slurping his soup rather obnoxiously. "He's freakishly strong, and he's super scary, and his eyes are like purple! Not to mention he's a commie."

"My eyes are violet, too," argued Matthew. "And stop being racist."

"You've got weird contacts!"

"Then why am I wearing glasses?"

And Alfred had stormed off, after spilling shitty soup on Matthew's carpet.

"You know, he thinks you're an alien." Matthew repeated, rolling his eyes. He had caught up to his friend and fellow teacher in a free period they shared, and they idled in the staffroom.

"Is it the whole _'commie germs, no returns'_ kind of thing?" Ivan sighed, a little exasperated.

"I think you should play along," he shrugged. "Maybe I could film his reaction or something."

Ivan lit up at the idea, amused. "Oh my, I downloaded that last video of yours," he chuckled. "I should put its audio as my ringtone."

"_All the single ladies, all the single ladies_," sang Matthew, mocking his brother. "There are photos on Instagram."

"Ooh, I don't have Instragram. You should sign me up."

Ivan had next period free as well, and he thought that he could follow Alfred around while he had playground duty. He'd always thought 'playground' duty an odd term for it, as high schools had no playground to speak of. Alfred had voted that they have one built, but that was only because he loved swing sets and monkey bars.

"Hello." Ivan said quietly, looming over Alfred's shoulder. The American jumped, took a second to regain his breath, and then wheezed. "How was your last class?"

"Mr. Braginsky," Alfred huffed, clutching his heart like it had almost jumped out of his chest. "D'ya mind not scaring me like that? Or aren't you taught courtesy back where you come from?"

"What, in Russia?" Ivan laughed softly, putting a firm hand to Alfred's shoulder.

"No, on Mars!"

Ivan frowned. "Oh no." He said, pouting. "How did you find out, human?"

"Hah!" exclaimed Alfred, pointing at Ivan with an accusatory finger. "I fucking knew it! Commie?.. More like.. Commalien!" He smirked, smug and proud because of his really really bad pun. It wasn't even a pun, it was more like a wordsmash. He laughed inwardly as he thought, _comma comma comma comma comma commalien._

"My my," chuckled Ivan, tilting his head to the side, and lifting one hand. With his fingers, he formed the shape of a gun, index and middle fingers extended, thumb up, and other two fingers folded in. _You come and goooo, you come and goooo,_ mentally sang Alfred. _Duh nuh nuh nuh, nuh nuh colours were like my dreams_. Ivan raised a brow, and lifted his hand to Alfred's forehead, gently pressing them in between his eyebrows. _Red, gold, and green, red, gold, and greeeeen_.

Only after finishing his little mental rendition of one of _Culture Club_'s hit songs did Alfred realise that the alien's fingers were pressing progressively harder against his face.

"Hey!" He squeaked, taking a hurried step back. "Stop it, you freaky alien!" He wept, panicking and swinging his arm up, accidentally smacking Ivan in the face.

Ivan jumped back, but narrowed his eyes. He fixed his aim, and pointed his gun-hand at Alfred's forehead again. "I won't hesitate to kill you." He said coldly. Alfred squeaked and turned, running away before Ivan could get in another syllable. What an odd man. He ended up covered in the falling snow, and being freezing, but he finished his goddamn playground duty and sprinted back to the staffroom.

"I almost died!" cried Alfred, having thrown himself onto Matthew and been crying into the man's jacket for perhaps ten minutes. "Protect me, Mattie!"

"There, there, Alfie," the social worker sighed, tousling his silly brother's hair. "Perhaps you should be a little more careful around your so-called 'alien', and not hit him right in the face."

"I already told you, his face got in the way of my hand!"

"Mmhm, certainly, Alfred."

There was a door opening and closing heard in the next room, and Alfred looked up. Upon seeing who it was, he bounced away from his brother and went to greet this man. Mr. Beilschmidt – no, not Ludwig; the other Mr. Beilschmidt – was carrying a filled garbage bag inside, and he had frost dusting his clothes and hair.

"What the heck've you got there?" Alfred asked curiously, prodding at the bag that his friend carried.

"Just somethin' for the end of the day," Gilbert laughed, sitting the bag down in one corner of the room. "You'll see."

The schoolday came to its end, and teachers, including Alfred, began to return to the staff room to collect their bits and pieces. Gilbert was set up beside the staffroom heater, garbage bag open, and smaller bags of marshmallows practically erupting out from it. Gilbert himself was poking a collection of marshmallows onto a skewer, and holding it in front of the heater.

"Oh. My. God." whispered Alfred, diving over to beside his pal, and then aggressively stabbing some marshmallows with a skewer.

"Dig in," Gilbert turned to face the other teachers with a wide smile.

One by one, the other teachers wandered over, crouching and taking skewers. It was too chilly outside for anyone to really want to go home; roasting marshmallows over a little heater was the more favorable option. Ivan showed up last.

"Oh my, what are you all doing, huddled like that?" he asked, amused.

Mr. Wang turned from the group, smiling up at his dear boyfriend. "Oh, we're toasting marshmallows. Come on, join in." Alfred let out a weak yelp and stared up at Ivan, furrowing his brow.

"No way! He's an alien, he's not allowed to."

Yao frowned. "An alien?"

"Long story! Anyway, he can't."

Ivan glanced away, wondering if he should just leave. Yao stood up, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back down to the group of teachers. "Here," he said softly, making sure Ivan was a part of this little moment. "Gilbert, hand him a skewer."

"Why should I give the alien a skewer? If he eats marshmallows, he might turn evil and eat us all," Gilbert rolled his eyes, and didn't move. You see, Gilbert and Alfred were buddies, and naturally, they gossiped.

"I'll just go.." mumbled Ivan, but Yao still held his arm.

"No, sit down." Yao huffed. "Gilbert, give him a skewer." He looked at the Prussian with a fire in his eyes. Gilbert jumped and handed one over.

"Great job, now we're all gonna get our brains eaten," huffed Alfred, although his words were garbled due to the half-chewed mess within his cheeks.

"Shut up, Alfred," Yao snarled defensively.

"Please don't fight," Ivan sighed, poking a marshmallow onto his skewer, and timidly holding it out toward the heater. "I'm not really an alien, Alfred."

"Oh, so you're just a communist?"

Ivan sighed and leant his head on Yao's shoulder, a little too weary for this. That, and his feelings had been hurt, and he didn't really want to keep talking.

"More like a _con_unist," joked Gilbert, rolling his eyes. "Get it? Like a con. Because he said he was an alien, but now he's lying." Ivan forced a smile to his lips, as irritated as it was at this point.

"Be quiet, Gilbert." mumbled Yao. "Or this alien, here," he pointed to himself. "Will eat your brains like this." Trying to be threatening, Yao leant in real close to Gilbert's face, and ate the gooey marshmallows from his skewer. Ivan's smile relaxed, and he took this moment to wonder if Gilbert really did have marshmallows for brains.


End file.
